


Another Man's Wife

by thequidditchpitch_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Erotica, Explicit Sexual Content, Masturbation, The Quidditch Pitch: Self Pleasure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-21
Updated: 2005-09-21
Packaged: 2018-10-27 07:58:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10805031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thequidditchpitch_archivist/pseuds/thequidditchpitch_archivist
Summary: Charlie Weasley is having some inappropriate thoughts about his sister-in-law.





	Another Man's Wife

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

Charlie Weasley was going to Hell. There was no doubt about that.

Thinking about his brother's wife the way he was.

His dead brother's wife.

He could remember how she had looked that warm afternoon, with her amber colored hair pulled back from her face as she followed her 10-month-old daughter (his niece for Christ's sake) around the backyard while dinner was being cooked, and conversations and laughter echoed around her. Her tiny breasts had strained against the cotton tank top she wore, and her feet were bare against the grass, but the milky flesh disappeared just above the ankle, hidden by a pair of loose tan colored trousers.

Charlie couldn't remember the last time he had found ankles so damn erotic.

He had caught her watching him more than once, those quiet blue eyes nailing him to the ground with just a glance, causing him to clear his throat and try and remember what it was exactly he had been discussing with Bill.

At dinner she had sat next to him with a polite smile on her peach-tinted lips, engaging him in what she probably considered friendly conversation. But her voice had caused him to fumble over his words, and Christ, even stutter when their fingers brushed as she passed him the bowl of salad.

Groaning, Charlie shifted in his bed, impatiently tossing the blankets off his heated body. This wasn't like him. He didn't fucking stutter around women. He charmed them, lied to them, and slept with them. But he didn't blush around them. And he definitely wasn't the type to be awake at three in the morning, agonizing over the thought that he wanted to shag the one person he couldn't have.

Charlie closed his eyes, determined to wipe any thought of Penelope out of his mind. She's your brother's wife...brother's wife...brother's wife.

Was. Percy's dead, you moron, he told himself before groaning again and rubbing his damp hands over his tired face. Yes, Percy was dead, but that didn't make the sweaty, dirty fantasies he kept having about Penelope any more right. In fact, it only made him feel more disgusting and twisted.

He rolled onto his back, the guilt swimming over him again when he remembered her throaty laugh. It was a rich, smoky sound. One that twisted a man's gut into an orgy of emotions and lust.

He wondered if her moans would sound the same as she came around him when he made love to her.

Charlie felt his hand instinctively slide into his boxer shorts and wrap around his erection. Fuck this, he thought as his palm began to stroke slowly. He could have a quick wank and get her out of his mind once and for all. His fist tightened as he began to move it faster, his eyes closing and a small moan escaping his lips.

There was no more guilt. Only the desperate need for completion. She was filling his senses...the way she moved, the way she smelled. He could practically feel her slim fingers wrapping themselves around his penis. The tiny, unpainted nails taunting and stroking. Then her lips would take over, her tongue darting out to tease before taking him in her mouth.

Charlie arched his neck back as he began pumping his fist with undeniable need. His hips thrust up as his hand beat down. He had to get her out of his head...out...out...out. Finally the familiar roller coaster of heat began to build inside his stomach, clenching and pulling tightly. Small beads of sweat rolled down the sides of his face and caught in his hair as his hips moved wildly.

Hurry...bloody hell, just hurry!

Suddenly it came to him again...Penelope's slender white neck arching back as she burst with laughter. Her breasts heaved under that damn cotton, begging for his touch. His fingers squeezed tightly, almost angrily until the rusty ball of heat exploded and he felt himself surrender, her name slipping past his lips in a startled gasp.

Charlie felt the air rush out of him as his hips slowed and finally rested on the mattress. He quickly grabbed the t-shirt he had thrown to the floor earlier, wiping his fingers before he cleaned the rest of his fantasy off of his stomach and thighs.

Tossing the shirt back onto the floor, Charlie lifted his arms behind his head and stared blankly at the ceiling. There. It was out of his system. She was out of his system. Satisfied, he closed his eyes, but found himself irritated, though not surprised, to find her face staring back at him. Her blue-gray eyes watched him, mocking him. Wanting him.

Oh yeah. He was definitely going to Hell.


End file.
